Unsuspecting
by HopeCoppice
Summary: Sequel to Unexpected and Expectation. Robin and Bertrand are happy together, but one day Vlad's actions force them both to face up to issues Bertrand still hasn't dealt with... Trigger warnings: past rape/sexual assault, panic attacks.
1. Chapter 1

**This is a sequel to Unexpected and Expectation, so please do read those first if you have time! Trigger warnings for panic attacks and past sexual assault, from the start. Short chapter to get going... Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Characters and settings aren't mine, but you're also unlikely to see this stuff happening in the show...**

It was April Fool's Day, and Vlad was in Robin's living room, grinning like a child.

"So when he landed we all hid, Jonno acted like the slayers had captured the place, I can't wait to see his face when he realises we were kidding."  
"He doesn't know yet?" Still, it was funny, and it _was_ Bertrand's turn this year. Robin had taken his own prank graciously three years before.  
"Nah, they grabbed him the minute he touched down – Jonno read him his rights or something, the works – tied him up and threw him in a cell-"  
"Tied him up?" Robin wasn't laughing any more. "Tell me that's a figure of speech."  
"Nah, they trussed him up from what I hear. Slayers had a ton of vampire-proof rope hanging about, so they thought they might as-"  
"Tell me exactly where he is, and give me the key. _Now_."

Vlad narrowed his eyes, frowning at him.  
"I'm actually the Grand High Vampire, Robin, you can't just-"  
"You like Bertrand, yeah? You're happy having him around?"  
"Of course I do-"  
"Give me the key and it might not be too late."

* * *

It was all Bertrand could do to keep himself still – he had to stay still, moving would only draw attention to himself, there was no point struggling or trying to escape – and quiet, hands tied tightly behind his back and tears streaming down his face. He wished he could stop the tears, just one more humiliation on top of all the awful things that had happened to him, that would continue to happen to him. He focused on breathing – in and out, in and out. He couldn't feel his heartbeat; he was afraid. His heart should have been pounding, surely.

He risked a tiny movement, turning his face to the wall in an attempt to hide those scalding, shameful tears, though he couldn't hide the way his entire body trembled. And then, after what could have been seconds or days, he heard footsteps.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks to everyone who's reviewed, it's very encouraging. :) Have another chapter, because I have it and I spoil you :P Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

"Bertrand!" The moment Robin got within sight of the cell, he broke into a run, almost dropping the keys in his haste. "Bertrand, it's alright, I'm letting you out. It was all a stupid trick, I promise, you're safe. You're safe here with me." By the time he finished speaking, he had the cell door open and was dropping to his knees beside his lover, who was kneeling against the wall, bound at wrists and ankles and shaking like a leaf. "B, look at me. I need to know you know it's me, so you don't freak out when I untie you."

Bertrand didn't move, and Robin took a deep, calming breath he hadn't needed in years, surprised to notice that Bertrand was breathing too, shallow and uneven.  
"B. B, listen, love. You don't have to turn round, just... I'm going to put my hand on the wall where you can see it, alright? And then I'm gonna look away." Very slowly, he placed his left hand on the wall and turned his head away. He gave it a few seconds, allowing Bertrand's curiosity to overtake his fear, then spoke again, softly, gently. "You picked out this ring for me, when you asked me to stay with you forever. Do you remember?" There was no verbal response, just a tiny choked sob. "Love, I'm going to turn around again, OK? And I'm gonna undo the rope, and then we can go home. We'll get you back in your own-" he hesitated for a fraction of a second, listening to Bertrand's laboured, panicky breathing, "-bed. Your own bed, and you can snuggle up to the teddies and I'll make you a cup of tea, or anything you like. Just... I'm turning round now, alright?"

He moved slowly, noticing as he did so that Bertrand's face was turned very slightly towards his hand, though his eyes were closed again. He stayed on his knees and very carefully reached out to untie the rope. He wished his Dad hadn't taught every boy in Stokely to tie such good knots, now. Fortunately, for all Jonno's talent, Robin was fairly skilled in untying the things, though it had been a while. A minute or so, and a whimper from Bertrand that made Robin's heart ache, and Robin was slipping the bonds from Bertrand's hands.  
"See, love, you're free, you're alri-" Before he could finish his sentence, Bertrand had flipped over into a sitting position and was lunging towards his neck, clearly intent on strangling his would-be rescuer.

* * *

Bertrand rolled with difficulty off of his knees, sitting up and lurching forwards, intent on incapacitating his captor somehow – but then he saw him. _Robin_. Oh, he was beautiful, so beautiful, and _Bertrand's_. Somehow, even here, he had found a way to save him. Somehow, Robin was here.

His fingers seemed to divert from their murderous quest without direction from him, moving instead to caress the nape of the younger man's neck.  
"Robin." Suddenly, the truth of the situation came back to him, as Robin freed him from the rope at his feet and he could move again. "The slayers – you're OK?"  
"I'm fine, B, it's-"  
"They've done something to Vlad, they took over, I thought the Truce-"  
"Shhh, no. They haven't. Do you know what day it is?" He didn't see why it mattered, but Robin's hands were on his face now, soothing, stroking, and he could answer the question if it meant they stayed there for a few more seconds.  
"...Monday. March the 31st," he concluded after a moment's thought, and Robin pressed a kiss to his forehead.  
"No, love, it's not. You landed a few minutes after midnight, according to Vlad, who's probably still sat in our library looking stupid." He frowned; Vlad was OK, that was good, that was a start, but what did the date have to do with it?

* * *

Robin could see that Bertrand hadn't quite caught up yet – a sign in itself of how distressed his lover was – so he focused on gently brushing away the tears from the older vampire's face.

"Don't be angry, love, I came as soon as I found out... This, whatever they told you about the slayers, whatever they did... it was a joke. An April Fool's joke." He braced himself for an explosion, or even for Bertrand to collapse into his arms out of sheer relief. What he didn't expect was for Bertrand's shoulders to tense even further.  
"A... a joke?" Robin nodded.  
"I'm sorry, love. Just a joke."

For a moment, Bertrand looked as if he was having difficulty speaking, wide blue eyes filled with horror.  
"They saw me like this for a_ joke?_" Robin pulled him into his arms, then, relieved when his husband let him.  
"Shhhh, it's OK. It's OK. None of them know what happened to you, and we're going to wait until you're calm and then walk out of here like we were just playing along, turning the joke on them. OK? Do you think you can deal with that?" The arms that wrapped around him squeezed a fraction tighter than usual, and Robin could only wait for an answer.  
"Not yet. Not... you're sure everything's alright? This is all... a trick?"  
"I promise, Bertrand. If the slayers have gone mental and taken over the joint, it's happened since I came in here two minutes ago."

There was a pause as Bertrand processed this and Robin realised how monumentally stupid he had been to say it. Then Bertrand was standing, shaky but capable of walking, and holding a hand out to Robin.  
"We walk straight home, yeah?"  
"Yeah, I promise."  
"No stopping?"  
"I promise, B, we'll go straight back. We can deal with your image later."  
"_Bran_-" he cut himself off hastily and started again, "Just... just keep hold of my hand. Please."


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks for all the reviews and stuff, it's very encouraging. Individual chapters may warn for smut in this story but I'm abandoning the 3-chapter format because it just doesn't work with this story. Anyway, here's the next chapter, sorry about all the angst.**

**Disclaimer: Not mine, not really.**

True to his word, Robin didn't stop walking, didn't even slow down as the slayers 'guarding' the cells demanded to know what he was doing with their 'prisoner'. He only faltered once, briefly, staring at Bertrand in shock as he forced a laugh.  
"I had them totally convinced, they thought I'd fallen for it-" Then they were around the corner, and Robin seemed to realise that his one moment of bravado had passed. As soon as they were out of the front door he broke into a run, half-dragging Bertrand along with him, and they were home in record time.  
"Vlad's probably still in there, remember. So if you want me to make your excuses while you go back to the coffin..." Bertrand shook his head firmly.  
"No, that'd be suspicious. I'll come and say hello, I can keep it together for a few minutes." So Robin led him into the living room, still holding his hand.

"Oh, Robin, you're no fun. We were going to let him out in a few hours anyway, twelve o'clock and all that. No need to overreact. Alright, Bertrand? You should have seen your face, the slayers got a photo-"  
"Yes, it was an amusing joke." He perched on the very edge of the sofa, hand still linked with Robin's as the younger vampire began to speak.

"Vlad, we'd like permission for a holiday. As soon as possible, we could leave tonight and we'd be back by the end of May."  
"You just want two months off on a whim?"  
"I need a break, I'm not as used to all this running around all over the place working for you as Bertrand is-" The rest of Robin's words seemed to blur into one and Bertrand's grip tightened on his hand. He had to get out of here.  
"I, um, excuse me," he interrupted, hoping that his rudeness and his uncharacteristic lack of eloquence somehow cancelled one another out and escaped Vlad's notice. He was halfway out of his seat, stumbling towards the door, when the Chosen One stopped him in his tracks with an order which, of course, he couldn't refuse.  
"No, stay and have a drink with us. To make sure there's no hard feelings, and all that."  
"Fine. Yes. Drinks." Fortunately, Robin was as attentive as usual, and insisted that Bertrand go with him to 'help carry the drinks' from the kitchen.

* * *

"B, if you need to get away, I can tell him you've got a headache or something-"  
"I can manage drinks." Robin peered at him doubtfully, but Bertrand was already picking up the three bottles of soy and heading back towards the living room as if it was just an inevitable hardship he had to get through. He followed and, once they'd all settled, made sure to occupy Vlad in harmless conversation. All the same, he could feel Bertrand's leg shaking against his as they sat side by side on the sofa. Gradually, the fidgeting was becoming worse, until at last Bertrand's hand shot out to grab at Robin's elbow, painfully tight.  
"Bertrand, what's going on?" Vlad was saying, as Robin peered anxiously into his husband's eyes before cautiously bringing a hand up to stroke his cheek.  
"B, I'm here, you're safe, do you want me to take you up to bed?" Vlad snorted at that, but Robin didn't even spare him the glare he deserved. "Bertrand?" He _should_ have looked at Vlad, he realised a second later, as Vlad brought what he thought was a comforting hand down to rest on Bertrand's shoulder. Given the way Bertrand had twisted his body towards Robin, all he seemed to register was an attack from behind. His fangs shot down, his eyes wide, and Robin had to shove the Chosen One away before Bertrand could turn and do anything he'd regret.

"Vlad, just stay over there and be quiet. Bertrand, look at me, just look right at me, don't think about anything else. Just listen to me. You're safe, I promise you're safe, and nobody's going to hurt you." He kept up a steady stream of reassuring nonsense, reminding Bertrand that he was in his own home and that everything was fine, for at least ten minutes before the last of the wildness faded from his husband's eyes and Bertrand nodded.  
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm OK." He sounded far from certain, but it seemed the Grand High Vampire had had enough of being quiet and was taking it at face value.  
"What the blood and garlic was that?" Robin did glare this time, moving protectively in front of his lover and preparing to give his best friend a piece of his mind.  
"No... it's alright. I... I can tell him."

Bertrand almost broke Robin's hand with how tightly he was gripping it as he retold – as briefly and vaguely as he could - the story of how he had been turned and what else had happened to him. His voice trembled and every few words he had to stop and glance at Robin before taking a deep, shaky, futile breath and carrying on. Vlad's eyes widened in horror as he listened, until finally there was nothing but a painful silence hanging over them all. Robin took it upon himself to break it.  
"So being tied up is kind of a no-go area for Bertrand, especially when he's tired or anxious, and he was both this morning. We're working on the fears but... yeah, sometimes this happens."  
"It was being at home, too," Bertrand mumbled, surprising them both, "sometimes I get into trouble on missions and they try- but I was here, I thought I was safe, and then the slayers-"  
"Bertrand," Vlad breathed, "I'm so sorry. I had no idea, you always seemed so strong-"  
"He _is_ strong." Robin was very firm about that. "He's stronger than you could imagine, the strongest person I know. And if anything, this means he's even _stronger_." He took a moment to check Bertrand over, not pleased by what he saw. "Now if you don't mind, I'm going to put my husband to bed, and we'll see you some time tomorrow." He helped Bertrand to his feet the moment Vlad nodded, but the older vampire hesitated.  
"Please don't tell anyone-" It was a desperate plea, quite unlike his usual collected tone, and Vlad could only nod again.  
"Of course. I'll... thank you for telling me. I won't spread it around. Um, I'll see you soon. I really am sorry." Then he practically ran for the exit.

Robin carefully tucked his beloved into their coffin, handing him the teddies they kept on hand for occasions when non-vampire comfort was required, and then paused.  
"Do you mind if I join you?" Bertrand grabbed at him, unceremoniously pulling him in to lie next to him, and clung to him.  
"You saved me, earlier. Thank you, Bran, thank you, I was so scared-"  
"You were safe, love, I promise-"  
"But you made me _feel_ it." His hand trailed cautiously down Robin's side and then up again, under his shirt. "I love you."

Robin touched their lips together before pulling him gently into a loose embrace.  
"Sleep, love. You're exhausted, you can love me when you wake up." Bertrand nipped at his ear, as if to warn that he'd be holding him to that promise... and then his eyes closed, his head dropping onto Robin's shoulder. Robin, relieved to see him at peace at last, watched him for a few minutes before slipping into sleep himself.


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry for the delay, I've been wandering around the country a bit. Fun fun fun, but it does slow the writing process, plus work are on my back. Still, never mind my excuses. There'll be more soon. Enjoy, and please review if you have a moment!**

**Disclaimer: Not mine. Fortunately for the poor characters.**

The next day, Bertrand was summoned to the main house at his earliest convenience, but it was almost dark by the time Robin let him leave the comfort of his arms and the safety of their coffin. Vlad didn't say anything about his lateness, though, simply sending the guards away and regarding him pensively.

"I'm sorry," he ventured at last, "about yesterday, I really am. I had no idea."  
"No need to apologise, Grandness. I made _sure_ you had no idea-"

"You should talk to someone." Bertrand faltered.  
"Like who?"  
"Malik. Ingrid. Some stranger. Anyone, Bertrand, you need to deal with this."

He was about to argue, but... Well, when the Chosen One spoke, Bertrand listened. And Robin had suggested it, before, and Robin had a tendency to be right about these things. Besides, what had happened the day before had been unacceptable; in a situation such as the one he'd believed he found himself in, it was even more important to function as a normal vampire and not go to pieces. He'd left Robin and Vlad in danger and if harm had come to either of them...  
"Do you think either of them would listen?" Vlad thought for a moment.  
"I actually think Ingrid might be your best bet, if you can talk to her. She's been running a bit of vamp therapy on the quiet for years now." Bertrand nodded; she was also female, which made her slightly less likely to trigger memories of the man who'd- well, of his sire. "I'm granting that leave for you and Robin. Take as long as you like, we'll say you're away working – stop by and see Ingrid at some point, and I'm sure she'll be happy to help. Send her my best." He seemed slightly uncomfortable with the whole conversation, so it wasn't really surprising that his dismissal was a little awkward and abrupt. Bertrand went straight home to pack.

* * *

Robin had waited until he was sure Bertrand was safely at Vlad's door – and he definitely hadn't followed him halfway to the main house just to check he wasn't panicking, of course he hadn't – before calling his parents.  
"Hi, Mum. I just wanted to say we're – me and Bertrand – we're going away for a bit."  
"_Oh, that's nice, dear. One of your jobs for Vlad, is it? Nothing dangerous, I hope._"  
"No, um, we're taking a bit of a surprise holiday. Whether Vlad approves it or not - B's been really stressed lately and I think it'd do him good to get away from it all. I'll take my phone with me, so you can call if you or Dad need anything."  
"_Oh, we'll be alright, love, don't you worry about us. Will you be away for very long?_"  
"Um, yeah, actually, we're... probably coming back at the end of May." There was a brief silence before his mother spoke again.  
"_That's a long time. Very stressed, is he?_" Robin sighed; there was no fooling his mum.  
"He's had a lot on his plate lately, he just got back from a mission and Vlad decided to play a trick on him when he was still tired... He'll be alright, he's just a bit frazzled."  
"_Well, you take good care of him, then, Robin. And make sure you relax too. I've got to go, the dinner's about to burn, but have a lovely trip and you'll have to tell us all about it when you get back."  
_"Of course. Send our love to Dad."  
"_And ours to Bertrand. Bye, love."_

He hung up with a sigh; they'd both hoped that Bertrand's worsening problems as he'd approached the moment of turning Robin _had_ simply been a symptom of stress, that they would return to manageable levels when the bloodbinding was over, but that hadn't been the case. He'd confessed, at last, that he'd found things easier when Robin was still a breather; however firmly he'd refused to _use_ his superior strength against Robin, it had been comforting, when pinned to the floor, to know that he could throw him off with ease if the need arose. Robin's vampiric transformation had robbed him of that comfort, but Bertrand had refused to let him feel bad about it, and here they were.

Robin went to pack a bag; they definitely needed to get away for a while.

* * *

"Where are we going, Bran?" Bertrand had allowed Robin to pack his things for him, largely because his husband swatted him away whenever he tried to add so much as a pair of socks himself – he tucked them into a pocket, anyway, you never knew when you'd need a spare pair of socks – but now, as they prepared to launch themselves into the night sky, he really did need to know what was going on.  
"The seaside." Robin murmured against his neck, before glancing up to check for Bertrand's approval. "Is that alright?"  
"Mm," Bertrand answered with a kiss. "Sandy beach?"  
"Of course." Robin hesitated. "I thought we might go to France, if that's alright."  
"France where?" He wasn't sure if the sudden desperate hope he felt was visible in his expression, but then Robin pressed another kiss to his lips and he realised that no matter how inscrutable he was to the rest of the world, his Robin was always going to see right through him.  
"Your beach," he whispered, "unless you'd rather-?"  
"No." He hadn't even known he wanted it until just seconds ago, but he wanted it now. "No, let's go to... let's go to my beach."

When they landed, Robin set their bag down and Bertrand found himself retracing his footsteps from childhood as best as he could, given that almost every landmark had shifted or changed. He gripped Robin's hand tightly and walked forward until they were both standing in the shallows, under the stars.

"I thought it went on forever," he confessed, not looking at his husband, "I didn't really know what forever _meant_ back then, of course, but... I couldn't imagine anything being on the other side."  
"_I_ was born on the other side," Robin pointed out, and Bertrand pulled him closer in the waves.  
"Not then, you weren't."

They turned and walked along the shore for a few minutes, and then Bertrand turned back to the beach.  
"About... _there_, that would have been where I landed." Robin squinted at the sand, then nudged him.  
"Breather-speed race you." He took off and Bertrand charged after him, but the younger vampire had a good headstart and was already half way to building a sandcastle when Bertrand caught up. It was harder, sculpting in the sand without a bucket, but Bertrand started his own a little further along the beach and then began a wall to join them up. Without so much as querying it, Robin started fortifications at the side of his own castle, and then moved around to add some to Bertrand's, until they were kneeling together in a little horseshoe-shaped fort.  
"Won't stop the tide," Bertrand murmured, and Robin kissed his temple softly.  
"Doesn't need to. Lie down with me?"

They lay there, curled together, Robin running his hands gently through his husband's curls, for several long minutes before Robin spoke again.  
"We're not spending the day in France. I know not all the memories here are good, and I don't want to push that right now, OK?"  
"Then where are we going?"  
"Well, we never get any leave, so I thought maybe you could show me a bit of the world. We've got two whole months. Today, we're staying in Germany, just over the border so we don't have to fly far. After that, it's up to you. I kinda want to go to Transylvania sometime, though. Is Germany alright, for later?"

Bertrand knew he was staring, he knew he should stop, but for a moment he couldn't get any words out at all.  
"B? You alright?"  
"How did I get so lucky? What on earth did I ever do to deserve you, Bran?" He was overcome with love for the boy he'd brought back to Garside all those years ago, as if he'd simply been returning Vlad's lost teddy bear, and he could feel himself losing control of his emotions entirely. Robin shifted so he could see him, reaching out to touch his cheek.  
"Oh, love. I'm the lucky one. C'mere, you great softie." He kissed him, detouring to brush his lips over the long-healed bite of their bloodbinding on Bertrand's neck, and Bertrand sobbed quietly against his chest.


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry for the delay, thanks for bearing with me. Hope it's worth the wait, even for such a short chapter. M-rated for some implied raciness, I suppose. Enjoy, and please let me know if you do.**

**Disclaimer: None of this is mine.**

They settled together on a soft bed in a German hotel, Robin nestling into Bertrand's arms.  
"Bran," the older vampire murmured after several long minutes, "do you... never mind, it's alright-"  
"What is it, B?" Something in his tone had made his hair stand on end; he hadn't heard Bertrand sound so timid in a long time. It was as if he needed to know something, but was afraid to hear the answer.  
"I... after what happened in the cells. You haven't... I mean... are you still... attracted to me?" Robin couldn't help but frown at that.  
"Of course I am, I love you and you're gorgeous-"  
"I'm _weak_. I'm a mess, and I'm broken, and I don't blame you, just please tell me-" Robin rolled over to face him, appalled.  
"I _love _you, Bertrand. I always will. Why would you think I don't find you attractive?"  
"I know you get excited whenever we get to share a bed, because they're soft and bouncy and you find being pressed down into one inexplicably hot-" It made perfect sense to Robin; Bertrand pushing him down against _anything_ and letting him touch him was exciting, but on a bed it was so _comfortable_ – but he didn't see what that had to do with anything. "- usually by now you'd definitely be naked." He didn't seem to be flirting, or trying to initiate anything, he just seemed... sad.  
"You think... I don't want you... because I didn't jump you?" Bertrand nodded miserably.  
"I understand; you saw me fall apart and that's hardly an attractive-"  
"We literally _just_ spent a whole day cuddling and half the night snogging on the beach-"  
"I'd just like to know for sure, if you want us to be more... platonic, just- I don't want to lose-"  
"_Bertrand du Fortunesa_, will you stop being an _idiot_ and listen to me?"

Bertrand shut up, looking resigned, and Robin took a few seconds to work out how best to handle this. No sudden movements, no surprises – Bertrand was obviously still feeling fragile from the drama of two days ago, or he wouldn't have worked himself up into this state in the first place. He leant in, very slowly, and kissed him as gently as he possibly could. When he pulled back, he allowed himself the faintest of smiles, hoping Bertrand wouldn't assume he was being laughed at.  
"I love you, and believe me, I would be handing you the lube right now if you hadn't been through so much the other day-" Bertrand's face fell even further and he realised how that had been misinterpreted. "- I don't want to push things, Bertrand, that's all. I didn't want to freak you out by dragging you down on top of me and begging you to rip my clothes off. Believe me, the thought has crossed my mind more than once just since we landed in France." That raised the tiniest of hopeful smiles.  
"Yeah?"  
"Yeah." He pressed another kiss to his husband's lips. "I just... I know sometimes me touching you is a problem, I know sometimes sex makes all those memories come back, and the last thing I want to do is make you upset when you're still shaky from-"

He was pinned to the bed before he knew it, Bertrand's body supported on one arm as he straddled him and began undoing his shirt.  
"I want you. Is this alright?" He nodded, letting his husband take his time undressing them both, until he noticed that Bertrand was still wearing his shirt and realised that probably wasn't a coincidence.  
"B. C'mon. You didn't even get those scars from that, did you?" He shook his head. "Let me see," Robin said, voice soft, and Bertrand obeyed as if in a dream, tossing his shirt aside. Unusually, though, he reached out for Robin's hand and placed it carefully on one of the long, thin scars on his stomach.

They'd talked about the origins of some of the wounds before, but usually it was Robin who traced a mark and Bertrand who reluctantly stumbled through an explanation. Today, it seemed, he needed no encouragement.  
"These, I got before I was turned. Sticks and training swords, mostly. The older we got, the more people my age hated me, and... anyway. That's how." Robin pressed a kiss to his husband's shoulder, frowning slightly.  
"I'm sorry, love. I still don't understand, though-"  
"He saw them. When- and he said- I should be grateful, not just for the bite, but... but these were disgusting, _I_ was disgusting, and I... I was lucky... I was lucky he would even-"  
_"Stop."_ Robin wouldn't let him finish that sentence; he surged up to claim his lips, halting him in his tracks. "Shhh. You know that's not true, and I don't want you to even say it, B, I don't want you to feel like he was right. You are _beautiful_, and strong, and mine, and I love you. And anyone would be lucky to have your love and your trust like thi-"  
"Do you want to- to take me?" He blinked, startled, but Bertrand seemed to be serious. This, too, had happened before.  
"B..." He trailed a hand carefully down Bertrand's body and reached around him to touch his back – but Bertrand flinched before he could do so and Robin swiftly retracted his hand, allowing it to rest on his thigh instead. "B. We're not going to do this while you're upset, or scared, or shaken up. Alright?"  
"I just want to be able to make you feel-"  
"You do. And if you want, you can have _me_, you know you can." Bertrand sighed heavily, and for a moment Robin thought that perhaps he should suggest they put their underwear back on and just sleep- but then Bertrand was leaning down to tease at his neck with lips and tongue, just the way he liked.

"Don't deserve you," he murmured between kisses, which was less pleasing. "so good, you're so... so glad I found you, so glad you kept me... I just wish I could be as strong as you, my perfect Robin-"  
"Hush," Robin reached up to put a finger to his husband's lips, pushing him away until their eyes could meet at last. "_You _are perfect, and one day I'll make you see that. If it's the last thing I do, I will make you see how good you are. But I got the impression that you had other plans for tonight."  
"Hmm," Bertrand managed, hands already searching for the bag Robin had brought, "so I did."

* * *

Robin made a delightfully grumpy noise when Bertrand tried to wake him that evening.

"B, we _just_ went to sleep."  
"That was... alright, that _was_ only four hours ago. I thought you might like to see the sights."  
"Mm, later?" Bertrand smiled, nipping gently at his husband's earlobe; if he was anything less than utterly exhausted, that was the way to rouse him. But Robin just made a contented little noise and clung to him, so he couldn't move.  
"Mm, OK. Later."

It wasn't until after midnight that they were both awake again.  
"Vlad said I should go and see Ingrid, for... counselling, or something."  
"Ingrid?" Robin sat up a little straighter. "Why Ingrid?"  
"Apparently she's been running vamp therapy sessions to keep herself amused, or something."  
"I'm sure there are others, though, do you really want to see _Ingrid_?"  
"Well... why not?"  
"You've tried to kill each other how many times now?"  
"Not in years."  
"You haven't _seen_ her in years, B."  
"I trust her. It... can't hurt to ask." Robin narrowed his eyes at him.  
"Who are you, and what have you done with my husband?"  
"I've broken him," he admitted quietly, "and now he'll take any help Ingrid can offer."

Robin's expression softened and before Bertrand knew it, his husband's head was resting against his shoulder.  
"I'm sorry. I'm not being very supportive, am I? No wonder you'd rather talk to-"  
"Is that what you're worried about? Bran, it's not that I don't trust you, I just... don't want you to have to hear the details. What if it made _you_ not want to...?"  
"Oh, B. Oh, _B_... When do you want to go and see her?" He hesitated, trying to gather his courage...  
"Maybe next week." Well, he'd tried. "First, there are sights to see, and if I'm not mistaken _somebody_ wanted to go to Transylvania..."

They'd made quite a tour of it, and in the end it was almost a fortnight before Bertrand raised the subject again.  
"I thought... perhaps it might be time to make a visit to the Alps." Ingrid had got herself set up nicely in a Swiss château she insisted on calling 'her little place' despite it being huge and beautiful. Bertrand had been there once, on official business; Robin never had.  
"Ingrid?" Bertrand took a deep, utterly wasted breath, and held it for a moment before nodding.  
"Ingrid."


	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry this took so long! I've moved house at least once since I last updated this - again - and I'm back at uni so that's my excuse.**

**Reviews would be lovely if you're still reading, so I know how I'm doing...**

**Disclaimer: Not mine, of course. Additionally, Ingrid's techniques are largely based on my own experience of counselling sessions and should not be taken as an example in any way...**

"Robin-" Bertrand clutched at his arm as they landed, before hurriedly straightening his posture to its usual severe height.  
"Second thoughts?"  
"No." He seemed to consider for a moment, then lowered his voice even further. "Third or fourth thoughts, actually, but it's got to be done. I just... what if she says she won't help me?"  
"She'll help you. You and Ingrid go way back, same as me and her. She's your friend, in her own weird kind of way." Over the last two weeks, he'd given it a lot of thought and come to realise the truth of this, startling though it was.  
"What if... Bran, it took so long to tell you, it was so hard telling Vlad, I don't know if I can do it again." Robin peered at him anxiously.  
"Then perhaps counselling's not-"  
"I... think I can talk about it, just... I never know how to tell people the first time."  
"Oh." He thought about it for a moment. "Would you like me to tell her?" He realised as soon as he'd said it that Bertrand would consider that the coward's way out... but Bertrand didn't take offence as he'd thought he might. He simply considered it for a few moments before nodding miserably.  
"Could you?"  
"Oh, love. Of course. What do you want me to say?"

He took Ingrid aside, as they stood in her lavish throne room – of course Ingrid had always been better at the whole 'royalty' effect than her brother – and spoke in a hushed whisper so that her guards couldn't hear. When she turned her head to look at Bertrand, Robin followed her gaze and realised that of course, Bertrand couldn't hear them either. He looked more uncomfortable than Robin had ever seen him, and when he met Ingrid's eyes there was something wild and broken in his expression. Robin excused himself and rushed back to his side, taking his hand as Ingrid resumed her throne.

"Is what he says true, Bertrand?" Bertrand held her gaze, but Robin could tell he was barely clinging to his courage, almost crushing his husband's hand in the process. He nodded slowly.  
"Yes." If Ingrid heard the wobble in his voice, she didn't show any sign of it. Instead, she dismissed her guards and led them both into a small, comfortably-furnished room in her private quarters.

"Bertrand," she began, when the two men were settled on a sofa and she'd perched herself on an armchair, "I can't tell you how sorry I am this happened. But I'm glad you came to me."  
"It was centuries ago-"  
"That sort of thing can stay with you for a very long time. There's no shame in asking for help."  
"And you can help him?" Robin couldn't help asking. "I mean, you... you do this sort of thing a lot?"  
"I've been doing discreet vampire therapy since I moved here. _Very_ discreet, since the only people who really know I'm doing it are my other clients and a handful of people I trust to refer people. I'm surprised Vlad didn't send you before, Bertra-"  
"He didn't know." Bertrand hung his head, but Ingrid just made a soft _hmm_ noise.  
"Interesting. Why tell him now?"  
"...April Fool's Day. He, um, the slayers caught me when I came home from a job and tied me up. Robin... Robin had to... had to rescue-" He stopped, scrunching his eyes shut and pressing his lips together tightly as if to stop himself from falling apart.  
"B? B, you alright?" It took a few seconds, but Bertrand squeezed the hand he was holding and nodded.  
"Robinhadtorescueme." It came out in a rush, but he seemed a fraction happier for having finally finished his sentence.

"Everyone needs rescuing sometimes," Ingrid assured him, and then, "why do you think that was so difficult to say?"  
"It's humiliating." He tried not to take that personally, of course. It didn't mean Bertrand thought Robin was weak, only that Bertrand didn't like to think of _himself_ as weak.  
"Why is it humiliating?" It took a moment of frowning for Bertrand to form a decent response to that.  
"I'm one of Vlad's _bodyguards_. I'm supposed to protect him from slayers, not go to pieces the moment they get a rope around my wr-" Robin squeezed his hand; it was shaking. Bertrand glanced down at it in utter bewilderment.  
"How are you feeling right now, Bertrand? Talk me through what you're feeling, physically, emotionally too if you can."  
"I... I'm shaking." He glanced up at Robin as if seeking confirmation. "I... didn't know I was shaking."  
"Anything else?"  
"I feel... sick. And my heart – it's not beating, obviously, it just... it feels... tight. I can feel my heart." He turned to Robin with a frown. "Am I breathing?"  
"Little bit, yeah." Actually, his chest was heaving, but Robin didn't think that was what he wanted to hear.  
"Robin," He'd never heard Ingrid sound so gentle, "you're going to have to be honest with him. He's counting on you." He glanced over at her before turning back to Bertrand, who was panicking in earnest.  
"Yeah. Yeah, you're breathing, a lot." And then he leant in and kissed him gently, pulling back to offer him a hopeful smile. "And I love you."  
"Even though I'm broken?" Robin sighed.  
"Even if you _were _broken, but you're not."

It wasn't until Ingrid stood that they remembered she was there.  
"I'll help you, Bertrand. I'd like a word with you at some point, too, Robin. For now, I think it might be a good time to get you settled into your chambers for your stay. Slow your breathing down before you stop completely, and follow me when you're ready." Bertrand took a few minutes to get his breathing under control, and Robin waited it out with him, stroking his hand, smoothing his hair, giving all the reassuring little touches he could imagine helping. At last, Bertrand stood, and Ingrid, waiting by the door, led them through her palace to their room.

* * *

"_Blood_, Ingrid, why don't we visit you more often?" Robin was staring, wide-eyed, at the opulent guest suite they'd been shown into, but Bertrand, still a little shaky, was watching Ingrid. He, therefore, saw the way she grimaced slightly.

"I don't know. Nobody really does. That's why the place is so _clean_."

"You're a generous host, Ingrid." Bertrand nodded at her slightly, hoping it conveyed the warmth he couldn't otherwise express. He and Ingrid were too alike in some ways; both were very careful about who was allowed to touch them and who they would touch themselves. It made it very hard to close that gap between them and express any kind of affection. "And we'll be sure to tell Vlad that when we go home."  
"Oh, I don't care if he never comes here. I don't want to be bowing and scraping in my own palace. That said, he _could_ learn a lot about interior design..."  
"I don't want to play into a stereotype here, but... yeah, he really could." Robin was openly gaping at the décor. "This is, like... proper classy vampire stuff."  
"I hoped it would suit you." She was practically glowing, though, Bertrand could tell. "I'll leave you to make yourselves comfortable."

The moment she was gone, Bertrand threw his arms around Robin's neck and kissed him. Robin staggered backwards, stumbling against the wall, but that didn't really bother Bertrand. He did, however, pull away for a moment to check his husband hadn't hurt himself in the collision.  
"What was that for?"  
"You. Being nice to Ingrid."  
"I'm _always_ nice to Ing-"  
"She needed you to be nice and you were and you make me want to bite you all over again."  
"Who's stopping you?"  
"I'd leave marks."  
"I don't care." And Bertrand pushed him against the wall again, kissing him roughly until at last his fangs sank in, leaving deep puncture marks Robin really didn't seem to mind.

"I love you," he murmured as he pulled away, "I'm broken but I love you."  
"You're not _broken_."  
"I feel it."  
"That's because you're an idiot." The hurt expression must have shown on his face, because Robin's fell too. "No, B, I didn't mean- I just meant that you're not- broken sounds like you can't be fixed, you know? And you can. You're going to be OK."  
"What if I'm not?" There; he'd said it. His darkest fear, the one that now haunted him when he tried to sleep, was out in the open. "What if I'm never OK again?" Robin tangled his fingers into Bertrand's hair and kissed him softly.  
"Then we'll deal with it together, just like we always have."  
"You shouldn't have to-"  
"You're my _husband_, Bertrand. Dealing with things together is _exactly_ what we should do."  
"I-"  
"-Need to sleep. Come on. Look at all the padding in that coffin, and that's got to be bigger than a normal double one, too." Robin wasn't having any of his apologies tonight, and Bertrand _was_ tired. Besides, Robin was already stripped down and waiting, boxer-clad, among the cushions. He couldn't resist that.

Robin gathered him into his arms the moment he climbed into the coffin beside him.  
"You're going to get through this, B. _We're_ going to get through this."  
"I trust you," Bertrand murmured, and promptly fell asleep.


	7. Chapter 7

**Sup, y'all. Trigger warning here: Bertrand gets a pretty hard emotional whack here, nothing graphic but he does have to start facing up to what happened a bit, so fair warning.**

**Reviews are love, etc etc. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

Bertrand woke earlier than Robin – hardly an unusual occurrence – and decided to slip out and explore a little. With luck, he could find his way down to the throne room and have a quiet word with Ingrid about Robin, and how much he would have to do to help Bertrand make progress.  
"Bertrand?" He spun round, surprised by the familiar voice.  
"Malik? What are you doing here?" He eyed the corridor behind him; he was fairly sure it led to Ingrid's private quarters- "Oh."  
"Keep it quiet, alright? I don't know how many people Mum told that lie about me being a Dracula to. Besides, if _she_ finds out..."  
"Your secret's safe with me. I'm happy for you, though. How long's this been going on?"  
"On and off, since we hooked up at your wedding. Thanks for that, by the way."  
"You're... welcome?" If Malik really thought the best thing to come out of his and Robin's wedding day was that he and Ingrid had got together, then so be it. Still, he was impressed that they'd kept it quiet for so long; it had been over four years since their bloodbinding.

"So what are _you_ doing here? No-one from Vlad's place ever visits."  
"I've been here once," Bertrand corrected him guiltily, trying to think of an explanation that would fool the boy, "and we were given some holiday time, so we thought we'd drop by."  
"Just on a whim?"  
"Yeah."  
"Ingrid said you'd be staying a while. Long holiday, is it?"  
"A few weeks, at least. Don't ask what Robin said to Vlad to get it."  
"You're not here 'cos your marriage is on the rocks, then?"  
"_No._"  
"Alright, can't blame me for asking."  
"We're fine. Just visiting."  
"Well, if anyone asks... so am I. If I was here at all."  
"Understood. Breakfast, and we can catch up?"  
"Yeah. Yeah, I want to tell you about my latest batch of revampers." Well, it seemed his plans had changed slightly, but that was alright. He could talk to Ingrid later.

* * *

Robin woke alone in the huge guest suite, struggled into some clothes and went in search of Bertrand. He tried the throne room first, but found only Ingrid there, looking bored.  
"He's still having breakfast with Malik." The surprise must have shown on his face. "Yeah, I know, no visitors for years and then they all turn up at once. I wanted to talk to you, actually, do you have a moment?"  
"Yeah, of course."

She led him into the smaller room again, away from prying ears, and had him take a seat opposite her.  
"Bertrand's therapy. I just wanted to make sure you understood what _you're _getting into here."  
"Me? It's not me I'm worried about-"  
"It's going to be hard, Robin. There's no way of knowing how talking about things will affect him in the short term. He might come home and cry, he might panic at the slightest thing, he might shout at you. He might even get violent. You need to be prepared to make sure _you_ come out of this OK."  
"But I need to make sure B-"  
"I'll take care of Bertrand, I promise. But if he starts lashing out and you need to get away, or if you just can't cope with the crying and need to escape for a while, you need to do that. You can't help him if you get broken down in the process. And if _you_ need to talk about anything, I'm here."  
"Do you really think it'll be that bad?"

Ingrid regarded him thoughtfully for a moment, apparently weighing up the pros and cons of honesty.  
"Bertrand's been bottling this up for four centuries, Robin, and now he's going to have to face up to this awful thing that's happened to him, and all the things those events led to. It's not going to be pretty, and it being Bertrand... he's bottled it up more than most people _could_. Yeah. It'll be bad. You need to be ready."  
"I'm not leaving him. He needs me."  
"I'm not asking you to leave him. But that doesn't mean you put yourself in danger, OK? It won't help him if he hurts you."  
"...Alright. I'll keep it in mind. What else can I do to help?" She thought about it for a moment.  
"Let him talk to you, if he needs to. Let him tell you about our sessions, let him say whatever he needs to say, but don't push him. If he doesn't want to talk about it, let him stay quiet too. It's going to be hard, but what he really needs is for you just to be there for him. He's going to have to do most of this for himself."  
"And... you think he can do it?"  
"If anyone ever could, it's him. I'll do my best for him, Robin, and he'll do his best too, and that's all any of us can do." Robin nodded slowly.

"You should probably... I don't know if he'll tell you, but... when it's something he's thinking about, he doesn't like being touched from behind. At all. Especially without warning. So just... be careful, yeah?"  
"When you say 'be careful'... do you mean he reacts violently to that particular situation?"  
"...Sometimes. Does that mean you won't help him?" Suddenly, he was terrified that he'd messed things up, but he couldn't just let Ingrid blunder in unawares-  
"Of course not. Thank you for making me aware of it." She paused. "I need to go and prepare for my sessions today, why don't you go and see if they've left you any food?" Robin took the dismissal for what it was, and set out in search of the dining room.

* * *

"And then, get this, he asks if he can _bring a friend_ to revamp. So of course I asked him who he meant, and it turned out he meant this lollipop lady he'd had his eye on. I said no, obviously- oh, hi, Robin."  
"Malik. Small world." Bertrand frowned at his husband; he seemed more tired than he had the previous night, somehow, as if something was playing on his mind.  
"It _is_, isn't it?" Malik paused, glancing between them. "You're _sure_ you two are OK? You seem a bit-"  
"Robin can be a bit gruff in the mornings, you must have found that out when you were helping him with revamp?" He didn't seem convinced, for a moment, but Robin nodded gratefully.  
"Yeah, 's too early for me. Save any food?"

Breakfast passed quietly; there were too many secrets around the table for conversation to flow as freely as it usually would. They were saved from the awkward small-talk at last when Ingrid arrived and insisted that Malik and Robin explore together. Malik started to protest that he knew his way around by now, and she gave him such a _look_ that he amended it hastily to knowing his way around _anywhere_, having been a street-fang leader for so long. Robin seemed keen to go with him, obviously seeing Ingrid's design, and then she and Bertrand were alone.  
"Ready to begin?" She asked him, once their partners were out of earshot.  
"As I'll ever be," he told her, and followed her down the hall.

They sat together in the same little room she'd taken them to on their arrival, Bertrand perched awkwardly on a sofa while Ingrid settled in an armchair.  
"I just want to make it clear, Bertrand, that nothing you say to me will leave this room. I'll listen to you in the strictest confidence, and I want you to know you can trust me. Despite our history." Bertrand nodded awkwardly. "You don't have to answer my questions, they're just to guide you, but it's usually helpful for you if you at least think about them. If at any point you feel really uncomfortable, let me know and we can work on restoring your comfort. Alright?" He nodded again.  
"Thank you, Ingrid." He wasn't sure how much good this would do – talking about it couldn't make it not have happened, after all – but he appreciated the way she was trying to help.  
"It's no problem. Now, if you're ready to start... Robin told me the very basic outline of what you need to discuss, but I think it would be better to hear it from you, if you don't mind."  
"In... in detail?" Bertrand couldn't deny that the prospect of _describing_ what had happened to him made his stomach churn – but Ingrid was shaking her head.  
"Not if you'd rather not. Just as much as you want to tell me."

He took a deep breath, utterly futile though it was.  
"I... When I was turned, I... he took me from a dark street at midnight..." He groped helplessly for more words, and Ingrid waited patiently, notepad in hand. "I... I was having a night out before... it was supposed to be an apprenticeship, but... after everything... I found out it was to _him,_ my parents had _sold_ me to him... I was just walking home, and he caught me. Took me back to his rooms, I... I went with him, I thought we were just sharing a pre-apprenticeship drink." He fell silent for a long while, and Ingrid nodded sympathetically.  
"There was no reason for you not to go, Bertrand, this wasn't your fault." He shook his head.  
"No, it... sometimes it feels like... I was stupid to go. But... but when we got there, he – he was a vampire and I was just a breather, I was trained but he was stronger and faster and he tied me up." Another deep breath, though this one rushed out again faster than he'd wanted it to. "And... and he... he said he was giving me a gift, that being a vampire would be the best thing that ever happened to me. That... breathers were breakable." She couldn't quite hide the flicker of recognition as she remembered all the times he'd told them that, back at Garside, and he hung his head. "And then he... he... pr- proved it."

"Proved it?" He'd known, deep down, that she was going to ask. "Can you... explain that a bit?"  
"He... he, before he bit me, he... I was hardly even conscious when his fangs sank in, I... he... he... please don't make me say it, please." If Ingrid was surprised by his sudden begging, she didn't show it. Her voice, when she spoke, was measured.  
"I won't make you say anything, Bertrand. If you don't want to, you don't have to. But I think being able to say the words might help you to confront what happened and begin to deal with it rather than squashing it dow-"  
"_He raped me._" It was barely a whisper. "He... he, oh blood, why didn't I stop him-?"  
"It wasn't your fault, Bertrand. It could never have been your fault. Even if you hadn't been tied up, it wouldn't make it your fault. He was wrong to hurt you, not you." Ingrid's voice was soft, but matter-of-fact, as if she was simply stating truth, and that was reassuring. Still, he had to bury his head in his hands and focus very hard on not crying.

"...And- and then he bit me- and then when I woke up- he gave me the Book and told me I had to search and then... then... he... again and again, until I managed to stake him. I... I staked him. And since then, no-one... I've never let anyone do that again."  
"Against your will, do you mean?"  
"A... at all." Ingrid nodded.  
"That's quite understandable. Well done for telling me, it's a good step, you're doing very well."  
"I don't feel like I'm doing well. I feel pathetic."  
"You're anything but pathetic, Bertrand-"  
"He... my sire, he said I was lucky he'd even touch me. I... if _that_ was lucky, what did I do to deserve Robin? He... he's so good, and kind, and he never pushes, and he _married_ me and I still don't know why-"

"Really?" Ingrid raised an eyebrow, but she spoke gently, like she was trying to get him to admit to something they both already knew. "Why do _you_ think he married you?"  
"He loves me." That came without hesitation. "I don't know why he loves me, but he does, and I'm glad, because he's wonderful."  
"Perhaps he thinks you're wonderful, too."  
"Perhaps. He always was an idiot." Ingrid looked briefly concerned until she noticed the wry half-smile creeping across Bertrand's face.  
"How do you feel about Robin, when you have one of your panic attacks?"  
"I love him." On that point, he was very firm. "And he's comforting. He makes me feel safer." Even just talking about his husband was helping his emotions settle.  
"He can touch you? Talk you down?"  
"I nearly killed him," he realised in horror, "well, if he'd been a breather..."  
"Would you like to talk about that?" He nodded, and began to stumble through the tale.


	8. Chapter 8

**More therapy and talking for Bertrand this chapter, though nothing quite so blunt as the previous one. And a few tales from their travels! Enjoy, and if you do - please review.**

**Disclaimer: None of this is mine.**

"So, you're here for therapy, right? Bertrand said you weren't, but-" Robin interrupted Malik before he could get any further.  
"No, _I'm_ not here for therapy, what gave you that idea?"  
"Nobody visits Ingrid. I assumed you two were on the rocks- wait, _you're_ not here for therapy? So... Bertrand?"  
"No. Shut up. How do you know nobody visits anyway? Here a lot, are you?"  
"No. No, I just... oh, shut up, you know I fancy her."  
"Didn't know she let just anyone who fancied her wander around her palace-"  
"Alright, we're... seeing each other, sort of. Very casual. Hooked up at your wedding, actually, just keep hooking up since."  
"Congratulations." Malik shrugged, apparently embarrassed by the way Robin was beaming at him.  
"Yeah, whatever, it's nothing serious. Anyway, so Bertrand _is_ here for therapy?"  
"No, alright, it's me. Ian and Paul are still being gits and I'm struggling with it, alright? Just... laugh it up at the poor little Branagh boy whose brothers are being mean to him."  
"I wouldn't laugh," Malik told him, looking chastened, "you haven't seen your brothers in years, it's bound to get to you. Like me and Mum. Even if they are total..." He trailed off, and Robin realised he'd inadvertently tricked him into revealing more than he'd wanted to.  
"Are _you_ OK?" He ventured, when Malik had been silent for a little too long.  
"Fine." He let out a weary sigh. "Maybe I should try talking to someone myself. So what did Ingrid want with Bertrand?"  
"Probably telling him how he should support me during therapy," Robin covered hastily, and Malik nodded in understanding.  
"Like he wouldn't. You two are so good for each other, it's sickening."  
"I'll take that as a compliment," Robin told him, "now are you showing me round or what?"

* * *

"That's completely understandable, Bertrand, you did nothing unreasonable. Now, is there anything you'd particularly like to talk about? Anything you think would be a useful starting-point?" Bertrand stared at her blankly. "What are you scared of?" She added, obviously hoping to coax an answer out of him.  
"I'm not-" He stopped, realising that he'd have to be honest if he wanted this to work. "I... Losing Robin. Especially when he was a breather, I was so scared I'd lose him – he'd get killed, or hurt, or he'd realise he wanted a normal life and leave me. Now he's a vampire... I'm less worried _I'll_ hurt him, but the rest of it's still there. And what if he decided he wanted a normal life and resented me for taking that chance away from him?" Ingrid nodded thoughtfully and made a note. He babbled on, irrationally unsettled by that quick stroke of the pen.

"And then sometimes, when he touches me... sometimes for a second, I don't know it's him. Or when someone else touches me, it's like... sometimes I can handle it. But sometimes I- I feel like it's _him_. My sire. And I just... I can't escape, I completely... they could, he could do anything to me-"  
"Robin?"  
"My sire. He's _dust_, has been for centuries, but he could- and I couldn't do anything- and I can't cope with that again, I just can't do it-"  
"Alright, Bertrand, I can see you're getting quite distressed-" He glanced down and noticed that his fingers were digging into his own folded arms, his whole body shaking. "-so we're going to try to bring you back to a comfortable state. Alright? Now, I want you to think of a happy memory. It doesn't have to be recent, just a time that makes you happy." He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the soothing tone of her voice wash over him. "Can you think of one?"  
"My bloodbinding," he told her, a touch of embarrassment colouring his voice. _How predictable. How sentimental._  
"Why don't you tell me all about it?" He opened his eyes, startled.  
"You were _there_."  
"I was in the congregation. Tell me what it was like for you."

As he thought back, he felt a tiny smile creep onto his face, and some of the crushing weight that had descended on his spirits began to lift.

* * *

"So you finally made it to Transylvania? Was it everything you dreamed?" Robin grinned.  
"And more. I never realised I'd be visiting with Bertrand, when I first got obsessed with vampires. He makes everything about a million times better."  
"Spare me the soppy stuff. Where did you visit?"  
"You've been to Transylvania?"  
"Yeah, a few times. I was born there, you know, and then Mum took me back there a couple of times. Last time was just before I revamped, actually."  
"Ah. _That _was a problem we had – there _was_ soy blood, of course, regulations and such, but they were a bit... well, they didn't think much of us _drinking _it. It seemed just as unusual elsewhere in Romania, as well - I think we were the only people in Timișoara who'd actually revamped."  
"Not everyone's on board with the peace treaty, even now," Malik agreed. "It's the same in a few countries, actually, you might have noticed on your tour."  
"Yeah. So we started drinking in our room more often than not-"  
"Oh, yeah, _that's_ the only reason to stay in your room-"  
"-so that was a bit awkward. I actually won an argument with Bertrand, though, he said we were on the Timis river and I said it looked more like a canal and it turned out to be the Bega canal, so." He smiled smugly. "There was even a bit of an earthquake when we were there, it was so cool."  
"Sure it wasn't just the wild coffin action making the earth shake?" Malik was teasing, and Robin did his best to match his tone.  
"B doesn't settle for anything less." That earned him a disgusted expression, and then, as if from nowhere, came a gentle touch at his elbow. He turned to see Bertrand standing there, outwardly composed as ever. One look at him, though, and Robin could tell he was sorely needed.

"Robin-" Malik, fortunately, seemed to think that Bertrand was about to ravish his husband right there and then, and melted into the corridors - without so much as a goodbye - before the older vampire could say any more. Robin held out a hand for Bertrand to take and led him gently back to their room.

As they walked, he tried to prepare himself. _He might come home and cry, he might panic at the slightest thing, he might shout at you. _That's what Ingrid had said, and he was more or less prepared to deal with any of those things. _He might even get violent._ That... he'd meant what he said when he told Ingrid he wasn't leaving Bertrand, but he couldn't pretend he wasn't a little apprehensive at the idea of Bertrand getting violent towards him. Bertrand had never hurt him, _never_, not even that first time he'd drunk from him. He wasn't afraid of what Bertrand would do to him, not really – Robin had been trained by the best, after all, and could probably prevent Bertrand from doing him too much damage if it came to it – but he did worry that they wouldn't be able to move past it. That Bertrand would feel worse because of the guilt, that Robin would be unable to forgive him...

He closed the door to their coffin room behind them and waited to find out what would happen.


	9. Chapter 9

**Yo ho, me lovelies. No, I don't know why I'm talking like that either. Anyway, this chapter contains some angst, a bit of fluff, and then hints of more angst. Next chapter is even angstier. I'll try to remember to give the angst a break at some point but Bertrand's struggling here.**

**TRIGGER WARNING: Again, there is some discussion of what happened to Bertrand, though nothing graphic and nothing more detailed than in previous chapters of this very story.**

**Disclaimer: Not mine, not mine at all.**

"Robin-" He'd started to speak before, but his husband had taken his hand and led him to their private space before he could get any further. Malik had been there, he vaguely remembered, but then he'd gone. Now, in their borrowed coffin room, he repeated himself. "Robin-"  
"Yes, love?" He seemed apprehensive, somehow, and Bertrand couldn't understand. It was just them; why would Robin be afraid?  
"Robin-" The younger vampire's eyes widened.  
"B, are you alright?" He reached out and Bertrand flinched, throwing himself backwards against the door before he even realised what he was doing.

Robin stepped back, hands held up in apology.  
"Sorry. I'm sorry, love, I didn't mean to scare you. How can I help you?"  
"_Robin-_" He couldn't seem to form any other words, but he did manage to stumble forwards and slump against his lover's chest, relieved beyond measure when Robin made a slow, tentative movement to wrap his arms around him, gently stroking his back until he finally found his voice. "Robin, it was- I'm so- why do- I'm so broken, Bran."  
"No, love. No." Robin's voice was soft, and soothing, and Bertrand just held on tight.

"It was rape," he mumbled at last, barely coherent. "What he did. It was _rape_."  
"Yes, love." Robin gritted his teeth, apparently trying to hold back his own tears as Bertrand finally lost his battle to do the same. He noticed this as if from a great distance, through a haze of numbness. "Yes, it was. But it's over, you're safe now." Bertrand hesitated, then nodded slowly, still not moving away.  
"Safe with you."  
"Safe anyway, Bertrand, you're safe from him anyway. He's dust, you killed him-"  
"He beat me." Bertrand interrupted. "I lost. He broke-"  
"Bertrand du Fortunesa," Robin told him quietly, "you are a truly amazing vampire. You've survived over four centuries as a half-fang – dangerous centuries, not like now – you _know_ how rare that is. You've built an unlife for yourself, you're the leader of your own clan, and you have a gorgeous husband, even if he has to say so himself at the moment. And you're going to get even better, because now you have help. Bertrand, you never lost. You're just still fighting, and he can't even do that. And I love you."

Bertrand was lost for words; several long minutes passed before he could reply, and it was barely a whisper.  
"Love you." Robin just 'hmm'ed in reply, and kept stroking his hair until the world went away.

* * *

Bertrand had, unbelievably, fallen asleep. Fallen asleep standing up, leaning against Robin. It would have been impressive if it wasn't so inconvenient. Manhandling him into the coffin took a few minutes, and then he didn't know if Bertrand would panic on waking, so he settled on the edge and waited to see if he was needed.

"I do, you know," he told him quietly, "and I wish you'd listen to me sometimes, because it's like you hate yourself, and you shouldn't. You shouldn't, because you really are... well, you're my favourite person in the whole world, and I can't understand anyone who doesn't feel the same way. Even you, daft old thing. Maybe it's because you can't look at yourself in the mirror, but you must know how beautiful you are even beyond looks. You're so special, Bertrand, and if there's anything I can do to help you get better, I will."

Bertrand started twitching, then, and Robin watched him curiously, only mildly alarmed. He didn't think Bertrand usually twitched in his sleep – surely he'd have woken Robin more often as they lay side by side for the last nine years if he did. The movement intensified and he didn't know whether to try to comfort him with a touch in his hair, as he sometimes liked, or simply stay clear and hope it passed. He settled on a compromise.

"B, you're OK, you're safe, go back to sleep. You're-" Bertrand began thrashing wildly and Robin almost fell over in his haste to stand and move away from the coffinside and his husband's flailing limbs. He felt bad about it right away, but he couldn't bring himself to move closer, or to speak. _It won't help him if he hurts you,_ Ingrid's voice echoed in his head, and he didn't dare put himself in harm's way if it meant hurting his husband in the long run. Besides which, Bertrand was deadly. Suddenly, the vampire in question sat bolt upright, eyes wide, shaking like a leaf and clutching at the edges of the coffin.  
"Robin-!" He groped at the air with a hand until Robin stepped closer and took it. He pulled him towards him and kissed his knuckles. "Robin, I love you. So much. You have to-" He trailed off, eyes wandering around his surroundings at last. "...I wanted to make sure you knew." He finished sheepishly, but Robin just smiled at him.  
"Of course I know, love. Are you alright? Bad dream?" Bertrand nodded.  
"I don't... I was alright when I left Ingrid and then suddenly it all just-" He squeezed his eyes shut, evidently trying to stop the tears that were now escaping them.

Robin brushed one of those tears away with his thumb and left his hand there, gently cradling Bertrand's cheek.  
"B, do you remember when you first told me what had happened with your sire? You said I was the only one you could ever tell. Now look at you. I'm so proud of you, love."  
"You're not... you're not upset I told other people, are you?"  
"Oh, Bertrand. You ridiculous man. I love you, and I'm glad you're getting help to deal with this."  
"Even though I fell apart? I'm a disgrace-"  
"I'm so _proud_ of you, Bertrand. You're being so brave and you're doing so well."

"She asked me to tell her about something happy," Bertrand told him, after a moment of silence, "and I told her about the happiest day of my unlife, the day I married you. I couldn't do this without you, Bran, I'd still be hiding from it-"  
"Give yourself some credit, love. You'd have dealt with it eventually, with or without me. But I'm glad I can be here for you. It was the happiest day of my unlife, too."  
"...Bran?"  
"Mm."  
"Get in the coffin? I just... want to hold you." Robin did as he was asked. After a couple of minutes, Bertrand spoke again. "So, apparently Malik and Ingrid-"  
"So I heard. They kept that quiet."  
"Surprised?"  
"Not really. I love you, you know." Bertrand shifted to look at him properly.  
"I love you too. Sudden change of topic." He shrugged.  
"I just wanted you to know." Then he snuggled into his husband's arms again and closed his eyes to think.

* * *

Bertrand couldn't think of one single thing he'd ever done in his entire existence that could possibly have caused him to deserve Robin. But here he was, nestled safely in his arms, and though it was the middle of night – Ingrid's household running on _proper vampiric time, _as she'd told them – he seemed quite content to sleep and allow Bertrand to do the same.

He'd woken, earlier, with only two thoughts in his head; leftover images of the vampire who haunted his dreams, and a desperate need to tell Robin he loved him. This fulfilled, and with Robin lying quietly beside him, he could turn his thoughts to the nightmare. Bertrand didn't often dream, as far as he could remember. But tonight, his brief slumber had been full of shadows, memories of days past. He had felt his sire reaching for him, as if through the years, and he had run back to his Robin.

And Robin had been there, Robin was always there. Whenever he needed him, Robin was there with soothing words and endless determination to help him. And Bertrand, more than anything, wished he didn't need it, that Robin didn't _have_ to be so strong to support his husband.  
"I'm sorry," he whispered, and was surprised when Robin's eyes opened and fixed upon his own.  
"Idiot," Robin told him, and kissed him on the nose, "you have nothing to be sorry for." Those beautiful, dark eyes closed again, and the next words were barely a murmur. "Unless you've eaten all the biscuits."  
"I haven't eaten all the biscuits," Bertrand promised him solemnly, and was rewarded with a little smile.  
"Good. Shh, now. Rest." He closed his eyes again, but Bertrand kept his own open for a moment, just taking in all the little details that made his husband _him_.

He was pretty sure relying solely on Robin, being so utterly dependent on him, would be bad for both of them. Robin couldn't keep putting his own needs and wishes aside for Bertrand.

He would have to do something to fix that.


	10. Chapter 10

**Sorry for the angstfest that is this chapter and, indeed, this story - unfortunately Bertrand's not going to recover overnight, now all these issues have been raked up. That said, there should be some fluffy moments here and there. Next chapter, perhaps. And I solemnly swear that the sequel is cute.**

**Thanks to everyone who's reviewing, it keeps me going.**

**Disclaimer: None of this is mine (and I am neither a psychologist nor a counsellor, just to be clear, so Bertrand's symptoms may not be accurate but I've tried).**

"Robin." At some point, he must have fallen asleep, because the sound of his name woke him. "Robin, I... we need to talk."  
"Mm, no. You've got your bad news voice on."  
"Robin, please?" He blinked himself awake, realising that he was supposed to be supporting Bertrand, and if he wanted to talk, then they'd talk.  
"Sorry. Yeah, OK. Go on."  
"Are you alright?"  
"Just waking up, B-"  
"I meant... all this... with me. Are you... coping?"

He shuffled into a more upright position, frowning. Had he missed something?  
"Am _I_-? Well, yeah. I mean, I wish things were easier for you, but _I'm_ OK-"  
"If you want to leave... I'd understand." Now Robin was pretty sure he'd missed something.  
"What?"  
"If... This isn't what you signed up for, I know that, and you were so young, but- I'm not going to hold you to anything, you don't have to stay-"  
"_Bertrand du Fortunesa_-" He realised he'd used his mum's patented now-you're-for-it voice as Bertrand immediately fell silent. He took a deep breath he didn't need, and softened his tone a bit. "I thought we'd discussed this. I love you."  
"I know, but-"  
"I _love_ you, Bertrand, and I'm not leaving you. Unless-" A horrible thought struck him. "-unless you want me to?"  
"I just don't want you to suffer because of me."

"B-" He shifted again, taking his husband's hands and looking him right in the eyes, "B. I am here for you. No matter what. I'm not going to leave you."  
"But-"  
"And if I need some space, or anything else, I promise to tell you so we can work it out. But I'm not leaving you. I'm _never_ leaving you. I couldn't, I'm too selfish."  
"You're the least selfish person I know." Robin smiled at him.  
"You're way less selfish than me." Bertrand snorted.  
"Hardly. This is all my fault. It's my fault you can't touch me without being afraid, it's my fault we're here rather than seeing the world like you wanted-"  
"You showed me the world on the way. And I'm not afraid of you, Bertrand, I just want not to hurt you. None of this was your fault. What he did wasn't your f-"  
"I should have dealt with it back then. It's my fault I didn't face up to it."

There was nothing for it; Robin flung his arms around his husband's neck and dragged him into a desperate kiss that would have left them both gasping if they'd needed to breathe. When they broke apart, he rested their foreheads together and spoke firmly.  
"It's not your fault, you have nothing to be sorry for, and I am here for as long as you want me. My handsome, wonderful husband. Got it?" For a moment, Bertrand still seemed uncertain, but then he managed a tiny smile.  
"...You forgot 'intelligent'."  
"You just asked me if I wanted to leave you, I'm kinda doubting your intelligence right now. Idiot." But he smiled as he said it, and Bertrand smiled back, and ran his hand through Robin's hair, and he thought they might be alright.

Then there was a knock on the door.

* * *

Bertrand swung the door open and forced a smile for Ingrid.  
"Sorry we disappeared."  
"Not at all. I just came to check you were settling in." Fortunately, they'd fallen asleep fully clothed, so it took no time at all for Robin to join them in the small unliving room attached to their room.  
"Yeah, the place is lovely. Thanks." Ingrid nodded, and settled herself onto a sofa nonetheless. Her guests followed suit.  
"And how are you both?"  
"We're OK, we just-"  
"We've just had the same conversation about three times. Bertrand's worried that he's being too demanding and needy," Robin told her flatly, and his husband hung his head. "I'm not trying to embarrass you or make you feel bad, B, but if Ingrid can help me convince you-"

"Is that how you feel, Bertrand?"  
"How could I not?" He sighed heavily. "Robin's always been so good to me, and now you're giving up your time as well, all because I can't just cope with this on my own like an adult." Robin leant over and nipped at his neck for that, a muttered _'Idiot'_ conveying his thoughts on the matter.  
"Not completely dealing with something this big on your own doesn't make you a child, Bertrand. You've been very strong, all these years, but it's OK to need help. It doesn't make you weak." Ingrid sighed. "And Robin, he's not an idiot. Try to be positive, if you can."

Bertrand wasn't sure he could believe that feeling this way wasn't a weakness, but he wouldn't let her scold Robin for a loving, if somewhat unusual, expression of affection. Seeking to reassure him, he kissed his husband's throat in return, running a hand around to the nape of his neck, and felt Robin go horribly tense for a moment before he relaxed into Bertrand's careful touches. He pulled away in a hurry.  
"You're afraid of me, Robin?"  
"Of course not," Robin spluttered, "I just- my neck-"  
"You've _never_ had a problem with me touching your neck, Robin, _never_. And now- What, do you think this is contagious?"  
"Bertrand-" Ingrid began, but he ignored her.  
"Do you think it'll somehow happen to you? That you'll be as scared as I- Or perhaps you think it's genetic-"  
"B, no-"  
"Are you afraid _I'll do that to you_?" The words left him like a sob, and then he had to flee, he had to get out of there. He couldn't bear to look at the one person who'd never lost faith in him, not now that he'd lost his trust.

Trapped inside by the rising sun, he ran until he hit the end of a long, dark corridor that seemed to lead to the door of some kind of cellar – locked, whatever it was – and sank down against it in tears.

* * *

"Bertrand-" Robin went to follow him, but Ingrid caught at his arm.  
"Give him some space. He's taken himself out of the situation for a reason, let him calm down before you chase him."  
"Let go, he needs me. He needs me!" There were tears forming in his eyes, hot, angry tears.  
"Not right now, Robin."  
"He thinks I'm _scared _of him _– _he thinks I think he'd_-_" He choked on the thought. "I can't let him think I-"  
"Charging after him in this state will only make things worse. _Sit._" He didn't even question it; when Ingrid gave an order, it seemed, conscious thought was completely overridden. Ingrid Dracula made demands directly to your nervous system and woe betide any muscle trying to resist. "There, that's better. Now. Tell me how you're feeling right now."  
"It doesn't matter how I'm feeling, I just- he- how could he think that? How could he- even for a moment- I'd _never_ accuse him of..." He trailed off, realisation dawning. "I'm... angry? That doesn't make any sense, he's the one who's upset."  
"It's fine, it's perfectly reasonable-"  
"And then he just takes off like that- like I wouldn't want to say anything, to help him- and I'm _trying_, Ingrid, I really am-"  
"I know. You're doing really well."  
"I just- he's so upset these days- I'm never completely sure what he'll- and then he gets angry at me over nothing, is it any wonder I tense up-?"

He deflated, dropping back onto the sofa and curling in on himself, head in his hands.  
"I just... I love him, and it feels like he's just waiting for me to trick him, or give up, or... I don't even know. I love him, I just wish _he_ would."  
"Would love... you?"  
"Would love himself. It's like he can't understand why I'd feel that way about him. And it's hard, I try so hard, I never push him, or-"  
"He told me he has a few... intimacy issues." Robin would have blushed if he could.  
"Yeah... yeah, a couple, but we're alright. We're happy, except- except that he's not, and I don't know how to _make_ him happy. I don't know how to help him not be scared."  
"You're doing really well for him, Robin. You're a very stable, comforting presence to him and he clearly adores you. But this may be something he has to do for himself."  
"I know, I just... he's my husband. I want to help him, I want to be here for him, but I seem to just make things worse." Ingrid let out a soft 'hmm'.

"Is there any particular reason you tensed up when he went for your neck just then?" Robin shook his head, then sighed. He supposed he should be honest.  
"He slept badly today, I think he was having nightmares, and he was thrashing about... the last time I remember him moving so much in his sleep was years ago, before I was bitten. I just... I wasn't quite sure what state of mind he was in, so I was on edge, and I suppose it was just instinct." There was a slight pause, and Ingrid's voice when she spoke was very gentle.  
"I want you to think carefully and answer this honestly for me, Robin, because I need to know if I'm going to help you and Bertrand. Has he ever hurt you in any way?"  
"What? No!" He was shocked at the very idea. "I mean, sometimes we argue and we both end up _saying_ things we don't mean, but we always make up, and- no, the most he's ever hurt me was when I was still a breather and pushed myself too hard in training, or he hugged me too hard and I couldn't breathe. Or... once or twice he's jumped and I've been knocked backwards, but... He'd never – blood, _no_."  
"Alright. I just had to ask. If that changes, and I'm not saying it will, but if you ever want to change your answer you know you can talk to me."  
"I- blood. Yeah. I'd tell you. I- _blood_, I just can't believe he thinks _I'd_ think that he could... do _that_ to me. That he could be like his sire. Why would he think that?"  
"Perhaps it's just what _he's_ scared of. He might be projecting his fears onto you."  
"He thinks he'd-?"  
"He's afraid of it."

His complete incomprehension must have shown on his face, because Ingrid continued.  
"Robin, if you were going to bite a breather, make them one of us, how would you know how to do it?"  
"Well... the way Bertrand did it, I mean, you just bite them-"  
"I don't think he's ever sired anyone before, Robin. You're it, for him. And he's trying to work out how that whole thing works, but the only example _he_ has is-"  
"-is his sire." Robin frowned. "But he doesn't need to be my sire, he taught me everything he needed to and now we... we're equals."  
"Yes, you are, and he treats you as one, doesn't he?" He nodded. "But he bit you, and he knows that, and he knows what _his_ sire did to him when _he_ was bitten. I think he's afraid that it's part of the process, on some subconscious level. That he'll make a mistake and you'll get hurt."  
"Broken," Robin murmured, remembering all the times Bertrand had been afraid to touch him, never mind bite him. "Yes, he is afraid of that."  
"And then – and this isn't your fault, Robin – but when you tensed up, I think he thought you agreed. So he got out of here." She sat back in her chair with a sigh. "At least, that's what I suspect."

Robin made to stand, to find his husband and hug him, but he thought better of it.  
"Ingrid," he began instead, "how can I help him if that's true?"

* * *

_Bertrand had waited out the sun, in a dark, dusty hallway, and now it was evening._

_He felt numb; not physically numb, of course, that would be too much of a blessing – he could still feel all the aches and pains he'd accumulated over the last week – but emotionally, he felt nothing, just a strange hollow quality to his thoughts. He didn't know what to do now, or where to go, only that he had to go, before someone found him and made things somehow worse. He couldn't be discovered here, not with what he'd done._

_He gathered his meagre possessions and limped out into the night alone._


	11. Chapter 11

**I am so sorry, everyone. I didn't realise where I'd left it, because I'd already written most of this chapter so in my head I'd left off at a much less cliffhangery place. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this - I think it's quite long, to make up for the wait. Oh, and there's a little implied smut type stuff so.**

**Disclaimer: ****_Young Dracula _****is not, has never been, and may never be mine.**

Ingrid had told him to speak softly and be careful when he went to talk to Bertrand.

Robin was never very good at following instructions.

"Bertrand!" It took him a while, but eventually he found him curled at the end of a dark corridor, sunken in on himself somehow. "Get up." To his relief, despite – or perhaps because of – his mental state, the man obeyed orders without question.

* * *

Bertrand obeyed dumbly as Robin ordered him to his feet and he came back to the present.  
"Come here," the boy said, and then stepped smartly between him and the wall. "Hands. Here." He tapped the wall on either side of himself, and Bertrand's hands were halfway there before he realised what the boy was doing. He snarled, pinning the boy's wrists instead in a no-doubt futile attempt to show him the danger of his actions. Sure enough, Robin simply met his eye with a small, determined smile. He snarled again, louder.  
"Only a fool would put himself in the way of a broken man-"  
"Yeah, well, I've always been an idiot." He leant forward and kissed his husband on the nose, just as he had in their coffin only hours before. "I love you, you're not broken, and I'm not scared of you." Bertrand couldn't even bring himself to produce a mirthless snort at that.  
"Robin, you're _shaking _with fear." His love's expression softened, and when he spoke it was very gently.  
"No, Bertrand. I'm not." He looked down at where his hands gripped Robin's wrists, prepared to make a scathing remark, and realised it was true. It was his own hands that were shaking, causing Robin to tremble with them.  
"Oh, blood." He let go and stumbled back in horror, staring at the cruel fingers that had held his Robin captive. "What have I become?"  
"No, Bertrand, shh. Listen to me. You haven't hurt me. You're still the same Bertrand I married, and I love you, and I trust you, and we're going to be alright. We're... we're going to be alright, Bertrand, just... please don't push me away."

He meant that literally as well as figuratively, he realised, as Robin moved cautiously towards him and wrapped his arms around his husband.  
"Shhh, love. It's OK. It's OK." He clung to Robin tightly and refused to let go as the boy continued to murmur soothing nonsense. "Everything's alright. You're safe."  
"You're n-"  
"I am safer with you than I'll ever be with anyone, B. I just... need you to trust that, for me."  
"I don't want to be like him-" His voice broke on the words, but Robin was having none of it.  
"You are _nothing_ like him, Bertrand. I promise." They stood for a moment longer, and then Robin pressed a kiss to his neck. "Come on, let's go upstairs. Ingrid will be worried about you." Only then did Bertrand realise he had no idea where he was.  
"Where are w-"  
"Outside the old Blood Cellar. Instinct, B, nothing to worry about at all. Come on."

* * *

They walked back to their rooms hand in hand, Bertrand quietly lost in his thoughts. Robin was concerned, of course he was, but he didn't want to break into whatever Bertrand was reflecting on. At last, the older vampire spoke.  
"I didn't try to get in." It took a moment for Robin to work out what he meant.  
"The Blood Cellar? I know, love. I know. You just ran towards blood, it's nature, it's how I found you."  
"But I didn't- and... and I wouldn't hurt you, Robin, I promise I wouldn't-" Robin stopped and held his arms out.  
"Come here, B. I know. I _know_. You great goof." Bertrand stepped into his arms and allowed himself to be clung to, hands hesitantly coming to rest on Robin's back. "I love you, and you love me, and we'll get through this."  
"I love you," Bertrand confirmed, "and you... love... me... and we'll... we'll be alright?"  
"We'll be just fine," Robin promised him. "Come on, let's get rid of Ingrid and go to bed." He felt Bertrand tense a fraction and released his hold on him, stepping back. "To sleep, love. Just to sleep."  
"...What if I have nightmares?" If Bertrand realised how much he sounded like a frightened child, he gave no sign of it, and Robin didn't draw attention to it either.  
"Then I'll be there to keep you safe." He held out his hand, and Bertrand took it again, his grip almost painfully tight as he trailed along behind his husband.

Ingrid took one look at them as they walked in and stood to leave.  
"We'll talk about it tomorrow night," she told Bertrand as she passed, "sleep well." She didn't try to touch him, which Robin was grateful for. He didn't know how Bertrand would have reacted to an unexpected touch. He was relieved, too, that she didn't object to leaving him alone with a husband who was, at best, in a rather unstable mood. He was safe with Bertrand, and Bertrand was safe with him; they just needed a private moment or two to reaffirm that.

Remembering Bertrand's apprehension when he'd mentioned going to bed, Robin settled on the sofa instead and patted the seat beside him invitingly. Bertrand lowered himself into the suggested spot and allowed himself to be guided downwards until his head was resting on Robin's leg.  
"Alright?" Robin checked, and when Bertrand nodded he began to stroke his hair, gently smoothing down the curls and watching them spring back up as if he'd never touched them. "We'll just sit here, just for a while, and calm down a bit, alright?"  
"Are you not calm?" Bertrand asked in an uncharacteristically quavery voice, and Robin realised he was still worried that he was a threat to Robin.  
"I'm fine, Bertrand, there's just been a lot of excitement this evening. We could both use some peace and quiet." His fingers stopped moving through Bertrand's hair for a moment and his husband nuzzled at his leg like a cat.  
"Mm, 's nice, don't stop?" He sounded sleepy, and for a moment Robin considered insisting that they move to the coffin, but if Bertrand was settled here he didn't want to disturb him. He resumed his gentle stroking motion and smiled as Bertrand made a contented noise.

It wasn't long before Bertrand closed his eyes, lulled into sleep by Robin's soothing touch. Robin stayed awake for a while, watching for any signs of distress, and trying to steady his own nerves. Whatever he'd told Bertrand, the events of the day had left him rather uneasy, and he still felt like he was experiencing some kind of adrenaline rush. His mind whirled; was he capable of being what Bertrand needed? Would he eventually let him down? He'd known Bertrand was more fragile than he looked when he'd married him, of course, but somehow he hadn't quite anticipated that it would all come crashing down around his ears so suddenly, or so soon. Even after the disaster of April Fools' Day, he'd somehow hoped that getting away and talking to Ingrid would help Bertrand, that he would get better. Somehow, though, he seemed to be getting worse, and Robin felt powerless.

It was with these uneasy thoughts that he moved his hand to rest at Bertrand's side and drifted off himself.

* * *

Bertrand woke with a hand curled loosely around his hip and an unfamiliar surface under his head. He tensed, then tried to relax so that it would seem as though he was still sleeping while he gathered his bearings. His pillow was not so unfamiliar, after a few seconds' consideration; it was a leg, and specifically he expected it was Robin's leg, because he didn't just fall asleep on any stranger's leg. That, logically, meant that the hand on his hip must also be Robin's, and that was alright. Robin was safety; he was in no danger. He felt more of the tension leave his body, and cursed himself silently for failing to relax properly just a minute earlier.

He took a moment to assess his situation. He felt calmer than he had the previous day, and it seemed he'd slept until midnight, using his poor Robin as a pillow. He didn't move; he didn't need to look up to know that Robin was asleep; the boy snored gently out of habit, even now. And Bertrand loved him, for all his little quirks and eccentricities. Blood, how he loved him. He wouldn't disturb him now; he deserved whatever rest he could get, even if it was uncomfortable to sleep upright on the sofa. Bertrand doubted _he'd_ get back to sleep for at least a few minutes, so he resigned himself to spending that time with his own thoughts.

He was safe here with Robin and he knew, deep down, that Robin was safe with him. Somehow, that simple truth had seemed much harder to grasp yesterday, and he had no idea how long he would be able to keep hold of it before it wriggled away again, but for now he clung to it. He and Robin were safe together, and that was a good start for anything.

The boy stirred beneath him and opened his eyes.  
"B?" He raised his head and sat up to look at him properly, now he could move without waking him.  
"Bran." And then, without conscious thought, he was kissing him. "I love you. I love you so much, and I don't tell you enough." Robin smiled against his lips, and pulled away gently.  
"I love you too, but you tell me plenty. How are you this..." he glanced at the clock, "tonight?"  
"Better than yesterday," he told him, and pressed a kiss to his neck. "I'm sorry for how I've been-"  
"Don't be sorry. You have every right to be a bit temperamental, my love. My darling Bertrand." He pulled back and frowned at him, uncertain if he was being mocked.  
"Are _you_ alright?" Robin nodded.  
"I did wonder, though, if we could move to the coffin. My back's all cricked." Bertrand hesitated for a moment, then reached out to put his hand in Robin's and lead him towards the coffin-room.  
"Would you like me to give you a massage? I don't know if I'll be any good at it, but I can try."  
"That sounds lovely," Robin told him, stripping his shirt off before settling in the coffin on his front.

Bertrand slipped down to straddle his husband, trailing an appreciative finger down his back as he did so. He rarely took the time to pay attention to Robin's back – at least, not when he could see it – and now that seemed like a terrible crime. He stooped to press a kiss to the first bump of Robin's spine, and the younger vampire squirmed appreciatively, making a face Bertrand had come to term his 'happy cat' expression. He glimpsed it as he straightened up and ran his hands hesitantly over his husband's shoulders, uncertain of the proper way to begin a massage. Then, tentatively, he began to knead the muscles under his hands, and Robin let out a grunt of pleasure.  
"Mm. 'S good. More." He laughed.  
"My demanding husband. My wish is your command."  
"Good, you're learning." But Robin was only teasing. "Mm, could you go just a bit lower? It really aches."

He couldn't resist shifting a hand down to squeeze his husband's backside, prompting a surprisingly high-pitched squeal before Robin burst into a fit of giggles.  
"Not _that_ low. Not that I'm complaining – oh, yes, there." Just below his shoulderblades seemed to be where the worst of the pain was presenting itself, so Bertrand set to work on the problem spot. Robin moaned blissfully. "You're playful tonight."  
"A little," Bertrand admitted, "I don't know what's got into me."  
"Would you like to get something into _me_?" Robin teased, then tensed. Bertrand understood; he wasn't sure if he was going to scare him. But he felt fine.  
"Don't tense up like that, you'll undo all my hard work. And I'd be happy to oblige, if you want me."  
"I do. I really do. But only if you're up for-" He squeaked again as Bertrand rolled him over without warning and began fumbling with the fastening of his jeans.

"I _adore_ you," Bertrand found himself murmuring in his Robin's ear, minutes later as they both moved gently together, "it used to drive me mad."  
"Mad?" Robin's eyes were half-lidded in bliss, and he didn't seem upset by Bertrand's decision to start a conversation in the middle of their leisurely lovemaking.  
"I used to be so furious with you, sometimes, in my shroud alone. When we first started dating."  
"Mm. Angry with me? Why?" But he punctuated the question with another moan, and it seemed he was having difficulty taking offence.  
"I thought you were going to come to your senses and leave me. And I _wanted_ you, and I wanted to keep you, but I knew- I knew- we could never have_- this_- oh-" Robin stroked at his hips, encouraging without grabbing at him.  
"You were wrong. _Fog_. Oh, Bertrand, Bertrand, you were so wrong, I've never been so glad you were wrong-"

For a while, after that, conversation became impossible, but at last they lay tangled and quiet in the middle of the coffin together. Robin rested his head on Bertrand's chest.  
"I'm yours forever. I was, really, even then. And look how far you've come." Bertrand raised an eyebrow, smirking suggestively, and Robin prodded him in the nose. "Pervert. I'm trying to make a point."  
"Mm, I'd need a minute."  
"You're so immature. Four hundred years old, yeah right."  
"Love you."  
"Love you too." Then he lay his head back down on Bertrand's chest, and Bertrand lay back too, and they simply remained for a while.


End file.
